


A different Hermione

by Mitsuky



Series: Bunnies-box [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Granger family - Freeform, Hermione centric, Jealous Ron, Ron Weasley Bashing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-03
Updated: 2020-08-03
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:40:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25693681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mitsuky/pseuds/Mitsuky
Summary: Hermione wakes up and thinks enough isenough!
Relationships: no relationships for now
Series: Bunnies-box [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1863139
Comments: 1
Kudos: 26





	A different Hermione

###### Breaking point

Hermione opened her eyes to the blinding light of the reddish sunlight at dawn coming into the hospital wing through the windows and falling all over her. She hissed, raising and arm to cover her face and whimpering when the worst kind of pain she’s ever felt, rushed to make itself known, all over her body — she immediately regretted moving at all. Even blinking was a pain filled experience, she soon realized.

Of course, the noise called the attention of the matron, who arrived seconds later as Hermione lowered her arm slowly and with utmost care.

“Good morning, Miss Granger. Are you in pain?” The witch asked, waving her wand along Hermione’s torso as she did so, and waited for an answer. Hermione nodded. “Drink this,” the woman thrusted a vial under Hermione’s nose when she was finished with the scans.

The colour of the potion vial was familiar, a pain reliever, she recognised from seeing Harry drunk many of them over the years after he suffered some kind of accident. So, ready for the bitter taste of the boiled dittany and wormwood, she swallowed down the foul concoction without only a short-lived grimace.

“It’s still early in the morning, Miss Granger. Try to get some rest. I’m sure your friends will be over in a few more hours, looking for you. Call me if you need something else,” Madam Pomfrey said, walking away.

Hermione sighed, relaxing muscles she didn’t know she was tensing until then when the pain abated, and gave a softly spoken ‘thank you’ to the nurse before she disappeared back inside her office.

She turned her head then, wondering if beyond the white linen separating her bed where anyone else, maybe one of her friends who travelled to the Ministry the previous night... And was it the previous night, or maybe days? How sure was she about the time? She should ask Madam Pomfrey when she came around later, because heavens know she felt too heavy and groggy to try to reach for her wand and cast a _Tempus_.

Moving her hand that short distance, to rise her wand, and then use magic, even if such a spell is basic and requires almost nothing of energy to cast, felt like a herculean task at the moment.

Like-wise, thinking, something she usually is unable to stop doing, is painful. Her head feels like it was filled with cotton, making her thoughts slow down to a crawl, her brain itch, her skull feel like lacking space to hold all of it, her eyes swollen and ready to pop out, her ears tingle, and the back of her neck hurt. Not even when she was overworking herself during third year, with the time turner allowing her to attend up to eight lessons a day, did she feel as crappy as she does now.

Her thoughts returned to the Ministry, when a shadowed figure sat up on the bed to her right. What happened after the Death Eater’s spell hit her? Most importantly, what kind of spell was it? What did it do to her? Does she need to prepare to the idea of repercussions from it for whatever kind of dark magic he used on her? Are the others all right? What happened to Harry? The prophesy? Are Luna, Ron, Neville, and Ginny safe? How did she end up in the hospital wing? What happened with the Death Eaters?

With another sigh and hiss, Hermione turned her head to look at the ceiling. The longer the potion had time to take effect, the better she was able to forget about the pain. If she didn’t move, she may be able to think at peace for a while, maybe, probably.

_“Silencio!” She cried, and the screaming Death Eater became blissfully mute. He continued to mouth through the hole in his mask, but no sound came out; he was thrust aside by his fellow._

_“Petrificus Totalus!” Shouted Harry, as the second Death Eater raised his wand. His arms and legs snapped together and he fell forward, facedown onto the rug at Harry’s feet, stiff as a board and unable to move at all._

_“Well done, Ha —”_

_But she was too quick in feeling satisfaction at their victory; the Death Eater she had just struck mute made a sudden slashing movement with his wand from which flew a streak of what looked like purple flame. It passed right across Hermione’s chest; she gave a tiny ‘oh!’ in surprise, the pain that cursed along her chest then making her unable to react beyond that, and then she crumpled onto the floor as her eyes closed off and her mind shut down, unable to bear with the experience._

Hermione winced when ghost pinpricks of pain attacked her chest as her last memories resurfaced. She raised a hand to rub bellow her breasts and chocked on air; only the tip of her fingers grazed over her sensitive torso, but the throbbing stabs of pain the soft touch caused were enough to make her see spots of light behind her closed eyelids and gasp breathlessly.

Wetness fell to each side of her face, that she only noticed when the pain diminished and she rubbed the tears off angrily.

If she still has such vivid signs of whatever the Death Eater did to her, it means it’s pretty bad, right?

“Forget it,” she chastised herself immediately, softly, and taking a deep breath she let her hand fall back to her side.

She’ll ask Madam Pomfrey later, for now, she needs to think about something else. Like the fact that the entirety of their difficulties during their escapade to the bowels of the Ministry were a trap set up by Voldemort, that Harry fell into like the reckless boy he is. Something they could’ve avoided if Harry learned occlumency properly. Or, if they were better prepared for it.

True, she followed along, but it wasn’t the first time Harry rushed into danger and she wasn’t about to let him do so without her there to watch his back and help. He’s her best friend; her _first_ friend. He’s easily the most important person in her life, right after her parents. But as much as she loves Harry, she’s also so...tired.

The troll in first year was Voldemort’s doing, just like her petrification during second year. In third, a werewolf almost ate them, granted professor Lupin didn’t meant to, but it was dangerous nonetheless; not to mention the horde of dementors that almost killed Harry and Sirius that same night, that would’ve gone after her when they were done with the two wizards. And after dealing with Umbridge the entire year, alongside her illegal blood quill, the centaurs in the forest the other day, and the Death Eaters in the Ministry lastly, _she is so done._

Everyone has a breaking point, and this is Hermione’s.

She’s putting her foot down.

Harry better learn to use his head and stop putting people in danger so recklessly. She knows he doesn’t mean to, but he does nonetheless. You’d think he’d become a bit more thoughtful...but no.

She’s been thinking about options to break down some ideas to him for a long time, but after this last adventure she’s feeling less than charitable about all the harebrained things they’ve done. She tried to make them think some more, dedicate to their studies a little more, push themselves to be as good as she knows he and Ron can be.

She’s going to have a serious talk with Harry and Ron later, to explain how she feels, tell them her ideas and how she expects them to put more effort into becoming stronger; because she’s going to stop going behind them like a nanny all the time. And all the stoppers are off now; she’s done censoring herself for the sake of Ron’s feelings. If the brat’s feelings are the cause of their deaths, then he can shove them where his body doesn’t see the light.

In the last year she dedicated so much time to plan for the DA, to nag them into finishing their homework when they had so little time, to research for ways to keep their group secret, safe, and undiscovered; she’s barely had time to put as much study time as she wanted to and her marks are suffering for it. Just during their last OWL, she knows she made silly mistakes that will cost her the O she was hoping to get; and not only in that single subject, mind.

She knows Voldemort is a danger that affects everyone at the present time, but he’s not going to make her stop planning her future and living her life to the fullest. And her OWL’s are important if she wants to get that post with the Unspeakables in the future. She isn’t as laidback, never has been, as Ron who leaves almost everything to the last minute and hopes for the best. She swears, if not for Harry, she’d never stand the nasty git. His manners at the table alone, or lack thereof, put her off to such a degree that she developed the bad habit of taking a book with her when they go to the great hall for meals; a wall that keeps her safe from the disgusting sight that is Ron Weasley pigging food into his mouth like there is no tomorrow.

How people can think she has a crush for the obnoxious twit, she’ll never understand.

Her thoughts continue like that for a while, to the point that she’s almost seething with anger by the time Madam Pomfrey returns to take a look at her.

She’s almost entirely silent while the matron works on her body, only speaking to answer any question the woman makes. The mediwitch gives her a list with the ten different potions Hermione will have to drink every day for a month, to threat the remaining effects of the dark curse that hurt her, when she’s done; explaining which curse was used and its common effects. Rest assured, between the knowledge of the curse used and the long list of potions, Hermione was as pale as Sir Nick when the matron was done with her.

 _How_ is she going to explain the potions to her parents?!

At least, she doesn’t have any outward signs of it, but, still. It’s not like she can hide to drink the potions, due before her meals, without them noticing! She’s in so much trouble...

As the pain returns, Hermione lays back against the bed and struggles to find some solace in Morpheus’ arms. Her rest is fitful, as every tiny movement hurt, bringing her back to the brink between sleeping and waking up every ten to twenty minutes.

When Harry arrived, some hours later, Hermione was in a horrendous mood. Maybe noticing this, Ron decided to leave them alone after a short chat, leaving only Harry to explain what happened after she fell unconscious, and paying attention at Ginny instead as she was also there for a tender ankle, on the bed after his.

“Well?” Hermione asked after a minute, her patience running thin with Harry’s silence and avoidance of the subject. “Are you going to tell me what happened after I black out?”

“Yes, Hermione,” Harry said with a soft sigh and lowered his head, spoking afterwards with an emotionless voice as he fidgeted with his fingers on his lap. “Neville and I run to you after the spell struck, but the Death Eater kicked Neville in the face before he could get closer, breaking his wand, his nose, and a few teeth. I turned to attack, just as he took off his mask, and I recognised him immediately. He was Antonin Dolohov, the guy from the Prophet; the one that killed Mrs Weasley’s brothers.”

Hermione’s eyes widened and she gasped in surprise, thinking how lucky she was to survive his spell. Madam Pomfrey told her that the only reason she was alive, before, was because the spell was cast nonverbally, and Antonin Dolohov is no weak wizard, so with more reason now she was thankful for her good luck.

Not for the first time Hermione realized how close she was to dying in the last day or so, and shivered.

Harry’s fists tightened in his lap, cracking and making her look their way.

“Dolohov... He... He threatened you as we faced each other. He wasn’t able to speak, but I understood him anyway as he pointed to you with his wand, instead of at me. Thankfully, between Neville and some noise from outside the room, Dolohov’s attention was diverted for a second and I petrified him.” Harry sighed, rubbing his face with both hands. “I thought — I was almost sure you were dead. I-I hoped you didn’t but...”

Hermione grabbed Harry’s hand, giving him a little strength to continue talking over the strong emotions that were making him stammer. She can easily imagine how he blamed himself for her injury all this time, when it’s actually the Death Eater’s fault and her stupid reaction. But then again, that’s Harry in a nutshell; blaming himself for something out of his control.

“Go on,” she softly prompted him.

Harry swallowed audibly.

“I... It was actually Neville who calmed me. He touched your wrist and said you still had a pulse. It never even crossed my mind then, to touch you and try to look for it. I felt like such a fool... and so much relief...” Harry paused, shook his head, and retook his story-telling. “I tried to talk Neville into taking you away, back to the atrium, while I searched for the others, but-” Harry snorted, smiling a little, “He didn’t even though about it before talking me out of the idea.”

Hermione smiled; Neville may have his faults, but he’s one of the most loyal persons she knows.

“Since his wand broke, he was in charge of carrying you, while I lead the search for the others,” Harry said. “We walked back to the room with all the doors to find your crosses disappeared from then, but before we could choose one, Ron, Ginny and Luna came out from a door. Ron was acting weird, laughing at everything, and Luna explained they fought four Death Eater inside the room with all the planets. Luna was fine herself, but Ginny broke her ankle and Ron was hit with something — she didn’t know what. Three more Death Eaters appeared then, led by Bellatrix, and the fight restarted. We rushed into a random room, that turned out to be the one with the brains. We tried closing off all the doors before we were followed inside, but they got to the last one before Luna did. The door blew off and Luna fell unconscious right next to you. The fight resumed with five Death Eaters against us then, until Ron summoned a brain to his hand in his crazed state.”

Harry shook his head, snorting, “Tentacles leaped at him from it, making Ron panic. I was scared witless because of it, but Madam Pomfrey healed him just fine...” He sighed before continuing, “A Death Eater got a hit on Ginny after I got rid of the brain — she also fell unconscious. It was only Nev and I then. He tried his best, but with his mangled face from the kick, his pronunciation was off and couldn’t cast much of anything, so I used the prophesy to attract the attention away from him and your unconscious lot. Bellatrix leaped at me immediately, followed by the rest as I run off.”

Hermione shook her head, angry, worried, and withholding the urge to scold him. She breathed deeply, sticking to her resolution of stopping the mum act. They’ll talk about it after he finishes explaining what happened, but they’ll analyse it from a logic point of view. It’s time for all of them to grow up if they want to survive what it’s to come.

“I rushed pass the only opened door, when the floor vanished underneath my feet. I landed on my back, inside an odd room with a stone archway, and many Death Eaters walked into it by the time I recovered. Malfoy demanded I give him the prophesy once more, Neville arrived and tried to help... but Bellatrix... she used the Cruciatus Curse on him... his screams... God, his screams where awful. I still remember what that felt like when Voldemort...”

After a long pause, Hermione squeezed the hand still holding Harry’s. “Go on, Harry,” she insisted, and he nodded once, clearing his throat.

“When- when I thought I had no other choice but to give them the orb, Sirius, Remus, Moody, Tonks, and Kingsley rushed into the room and distracted the Death Eaters. I ran next to Neville, helped him get up, and another man came and throttled me. Neville helped getting him off, and when I attacked, his mask fell. He was Macnair.”

They paused for a moment when house elves appeared with trays with breakfast. Ron and Ginny, now free from Madam Pomfrey’s care, said goodbye and left for the great hall. They ate in silence for a short while, Hermione wasn’t that hungry so she finished first and waited for Harry to be done.

Some time later the trays disappeared and Harry sat with his elbows over his knees, a glass of pumpkin juice between his hands, and he started to speak again.

“Where was I?” He wondered, sniffing as he rubbed his nose.

“Macnair,” Hermione reminded him in a whisper.

“Right... Neville and I took down Macnair, I stumbled... errr. Oh! On Moody’s eye... I hope he’s fine. He looked like a mess. Eh... anyway, Dolohov appeared and hexed Neville, tried to curse me like he did to you but I cast a shield right on time, it protected me but it still hurt a lot. Then Sirius diverted his attention so I had time to petrify him, but at the same time Bellatrix also petrified Tonks so he started to duel her while Neville and I escaped. Malfoy appeared, I gave the prophesy to Neville and shook off the man, Remus jumped in the middle and took on him while we tried to run off once more, but with Neville hexed it was hard to get up to the doors again... and while trying to do that, the orb fell from his pocket and smashed on the floor away from us. With the noise of the duels going on, only the two of us noticed; and then, Dumbledore arrived.”

“Did you hear anything?”

Harry shook his head negatively, leaving the empty glass on the nightstand and rubbing his temples with his palms. “No. Too much noise all around.”

Hermione sighed despondently. All that effort... for nothing. It was a difficult thing to accept. “What happened after the Headmaster appeared?” Hermione asked, prompting him to continue.

“Dumbledore brough down most of the Death Eaters still there, but for Bellatrix and Siri- Sirius...” Hermione turned to look at Harry with worry; his voice suddenly sounded dead instead of simply tired, and she felt dread creep all over her. “They were duelling, exchanging spells while he taunted her and then... a stun hit him. He fell... Dumbledore — he said that that place it’s called the Death Chamber for a reason...” Hermione gasped loudly, taking her free hand to her mouth. “The stone archway, it’s a pathway to Death’s realm or something like that. Sirius is — he’s dead.”

As Harry finished talking with a chocked off sob, Hermione sat up, ignoring her pain, and hugged her friend tightly. They remained like that for a long time afterwards.

Hermione felt terrible for her earlier thoughts, but if anything, Sirius’ death made her resolve straighten. The war is restarting, so it’s obvious to assume that the death toll will only continue to grow, and she’ll be damned if she does nothing to protect those she cares for and survive it.

When Harry recovered, after breaking down on her arms, he stammered here and there, pausing at times when he tried to explain how he cast _Crucio_ on Bellatrix successfully, if only for a second. Or how Voldemort possessed him, making him accept the chance of dying, just to make the pain go away. Hermione couldn’t hold it anymore and she started to cry at that. Each sob exacerbated her pain, that was already horrible after moving so much, but the thought of Harry dying was something worse than any physical pain she could ever feel.

Madam Pomfrey came by at that time, chastising Harry and chasing him off for upsetting her into such state.

With a pitiful ‘sorry’, Harry rushed off the wing as she kept crying. She felt like a fool as she watched Harry walk away, hunched in on himself and looking so miserable. While he lost his godfather and suffered something she couldn’t even start to comprehend under Voldemort, here she was, getting angry at him and planning on giving him a severe scolding. She felt like such a shitty friend that she needed another potion to calm her emotions, followed by the mediwitch putting her to sleep forcefully.

###### Shocking revelations

The potion put her under for the rest of the day, but by dinner she was up and eating a light meal. No one visited afterwards; for many hours she was alone and thinking, instead of reading the books her friends left on her bedside table to pass the time.

She knows Harry though, and like she expected, right after curfew started, a small scrapping sound arrived from her right, and moments later the leather of the chair dipped under the weight of someone sitting on it.

“Harry?” She whispered only to be sure.

“Yes,” he said back, just as softly.

Hermione remained looking up to the ceiling. Her contemplative mood didn’t change a little bit since she first woke up in the morning, but she wanted him to finish his story before she started sharing her ideas. After a couple of hours, Madam Pomfrey made one last round, checking on everyone and activating the wards on the entrance door, before finally leaving to her chambers. Even then, Harry waited some more before talking to her, and he agreed on finishing the story, after a small joke about her demanding attitude with her bedpartner, something that backfired as he ended more flustered than she did.

He told her then about the Minister appearing right there and then, getting a good eyeful of Voldemort before the madman left. Fudge was a useless blubbering mess that Dumbledore spoke around as he wanted, sending Harry off to his office while the stayed behind to give explanations.

Then he talked a little about his guilt; feeling mad in the silence, calm, and beauty of the Headmaster’s office. Feeling angry with himself for falling in Voldemort’s trap, leading to Sirius’ death. Convinced it was his fault, all of it. And it didn’t help that the portraits of all the headmasters started to stir and speak to him, making Harry feel worse the more they said.

It was Harry’s worst half-hour experience, until the fireplace roared to life and Dumbledore came out from it. But, instead of feeling better when he was told everyone would be fine after a short visit in the hospital wing, or St Mungo’s for Tonks, Harry only felt worse; angry even, when Dumbledore started praising his ability to feel pain.

His. _Ability._ To feel. Pain!

Hermione was ready to run all the way to the Headmaster’s office and throttle the old wizard right then. How dared he?! Sirius was only her friend’s Godfather, not really important to her, but he was important enough for Harry to make her feel _so_ much anger...

As Harry retold how, in anger, he screamed at Dumbledore and destroyed his things, Hermione could only feel shameless satisfaction... Until Harry explained Dumbledore’s reasons for his absence and dismissal during the entire year, Professor Snape’s actions after understanding Harry’s words, and then, Kreacher’s actions.

Hermione’s breath hitched when Harry explained Kreacher’s actions for the past months. Since Christmas! To think the creature acted so spitefully... it’s something unthinkable for her... or was. And she laughed. For the first time, Hermione interrupted Harry to laugh bitterly.

“And to think,” she said with a dry throat, “That I kept telling all of you to be nicer to him...”

Hermione felt so betrayed with Kreacher’s actions, that she wanted to scream and ask him ‘ _why?’_

Harry sighed. “Yes,” he said sadly, “But none of that is the worse part.”

“Then which is it?” Hermione grumbled, throwing an arm over her prickling eyes and welcoming the pain, feeling she deserved it.

“Dumbledore said, that while he used Legilimens to take the information from Kreacher,” Hermione gritted her teeth, lowering her arm and looking intently at Harry, “The elf _laughed_ ,” he bit out.

Hermione huffed, sitting up and raising a hand to make Harry stop there. Her mind was awhirl with thoughts, but two things seem important enough to mention now, before she forgot.

“Harry, do you know who’s the Black head, now...?” _That Sirius is dead,_ she left unsaid, of course; and looked at Harry swallow down, shaking his head a second later. Hermione hummed for a moment, “And do you know, what Legilimency is?”

Harry shrugged, “Mind reading?”

“Something like that, but not quite...” Hermione acknowledge with reticence and wincing at his mangled definition of Legilimency. “What happened then?”

As harry explained how the conversation between him and the headmaster continued, Hermione made a decision as she watched his anger resurface. ‘People don’t like being locked up,’ indeed.

So many mistakes...

She was done putting her thrust in the wrong hands too, it seemed. The headmaster made one too many. She hoped Harry agreed with her when she explained herself later...

“...safe and whole, just as he planned-”

“Wait, what?” Hermione startled, “The Headmaster said what?!” She asked with an angry hiss.

“He knew, Hermione,” Harry looked up at her, his eyes so sad and disappointed that it broke her heart. “He knew I’d be _unhappy_ , he said, but left me with... **_them_** anyway!”

Those words shattered Hermione’s foundation. Her thrust for figures of authority withered and died in a sudden burst of fierce anger, disappointment, and betrayal. The Headmaster had known, all those years ago, that leaving Harry with his mother’s family would be bad for him, _and he did it anyway_?

Well, bad was putting it mildly. Harry has been systematically and thoroughly abused during his years living with those pathetic excuse of family. If not for the Headmasters insistence that Harry returned there, she’d have called the police years ago! If she does so when she returns home next...the Headmaster himself can face charges for allowing the abuse to take place. What kind of man has she been looking up to all these years?

“You... Are you sure he knew?” Hermione asked, pale and shaking with repressed anger and fear of his answer.

“His literal words where, ‘I knew I was condemning you to ten dark and difficult years.’”

A tear run down Hermione’s cheek; at the same time a spike of pain stabbed her chest. She took a deep breath, asking Harry to continue, and gripped his hand tighter, promising herself to find a way to take Harry out of that cursed house this summer. _No matter what._

“He said, his priority was only to keep me alive. He knew Voldemort would return, so he decided to use my mother’s protection, that runs in my blood or something, to protect me. To do that, I had to live with the Dursleys, since Petunia shares my mother’s blood. It doesn’t matter that she hates me,” Harry said before Hermione could ask, “When she accepted me, the protection activated. And as long I can call that house my home, I’m protected while inside it.”

Hermione sighed, sprawling on the bed even more angry than before. “That’s so fucked up,” she said, earning a wide-eyed stare from her stunned friend. She rolled her eyes at him with a annoyed huff.

Harry continued talking long into the night, explaining Dumbledore’s point of view for the ‘big picture’ and his change of heart later, without himself realizing.

“... so, his plan was working well, he said. Apparently, I reacted magnificently to the challenge during first year; facing Voldemort, surviving, delaying his return; he was _proud_ of me,” Harry snorted and Hermione glowered at the ceiling.

“That shouldn’t be his reaction. He should feel ashamed that the three of us protected that stone, when it was his responsibility,” Hermione grumbled, understanding all these years later that their actions were foolish at best. Children shouldn’t have to face such danger, much less be praised and rewarded for it.

“I know,” Harry mumbled. “But he said his plan had a flaw and started mentioning him getting too emotional, my scar, and going over things that I’ll spare you right now. Until he came to the important subject, finally; the prophesy.”

Hermione whined, “What about it?”

“He was interviewing Professor Trelawney, when _she_ spoke the prophesy.”

Hermione gasped, horrified, “That hack?!”

Harry nodded, pausing for a while, before speaking in a solemn voice, “The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches. Born to those who have thrice defied him; born as the seven month dies. And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have a power the Dark Lord knows not. And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives. The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seven month dies.”

Hermione made a strangled sound, tugging Harry closer to her and hugging him, crying once more.

###### Analyses and theories

Thankfully, Hermione had the final week at Hogwarts to recover in peace while the seventh years took their NEWTs. Everyone visited any other day, sharing with her the last news roaming around and bringing new books to keep her busy. It was tedious to stay put on her bed for so long, but finally Madam Pomfrey released her with orders not to stress herself with walking too much; she wasn’t allowed to leave the common room beyond visiting the great hall for breakfast and going to the express later on; she was also told to take it easy for the next month and leave her body recover from its exposure to the dark curse.

Walking from the hospital wing to the Gryffindor common was refreshing but tiring at the same time. She was breathless by the time she stepped into the bustling red and gold room, supporting herself against Harry’s arm heavily and then lowering on the couch in front of the fire with a relieved sigh. Thankfully, the older group that was there didn’t mind it much in the face of her pain.

Ron wasn’t with them as he was preparing his luggage, as usual doing everything in the last possible minute. Harry did it the previous night, surprising her with his uncommon forethought, so he was free to accompany her at the moment.

As her friend sat next to her, she turned to look at him with an assessing gaze. Harry lowered his eyes when he caught her.

“Harry,” Hermione started with a soft tone, “Later, in the express, I want to talk with you about something important. And the group that travelled to the ministry too, but later. I’ve been thinking about a few things I think we should discuss.”

“I knew you were acting strange lately,” Harry said with a smirk, “What brilliant idea have you cooked up this time?”

Hermione sniffed, “I don’t think you’ll be so happy once I explain.”

Harry frowned, “Is everything ok, Hermione?”

“Everything’s fine, Harry. It’s just a couple of ideas I have, that I want to share with you, as they may be helpful for the future.”

“Ok...” Harry murmured unsure.

“Anyway,” Hermione huffed, changing the subject, “Tell me, Harry, what do you think of Dumbledore now, after all this?”

“What do you mean...?”

“Let me be honest with you, Harry,” Hermione said, sitting ramrod straight and preparing to say a few things he may dislike, “I lost my remaining faith in him after you told me about your last talk with him, but this isn’t new. Over the years, as I thought and realised a few things, I trusted him less and less.” She raised a hand, stopping him from speaking as she raised a finger and starting numbering things with them, “First, he left you, as a defenceless baby, in an abusive household. We know Sirius arrived in your house to find your parents dead and Hagrid with you in arms, with orders to ‘take you to Professor Dumbledore immediately,’ since he told you just that, last Christmas. What I’d like to know is this: What gave Dumbledore the right to take you away from your parents’ house? Did your parents want that and he was supposed to take care of you if anything happened to them? Did you ever wondered if your parents left wills behind for you? And if they exist, do they corroborate that Dumbledore could take you and do as he please with you? If the answers are yes, then good, he took care of you as he was supposed; but, if the answers are no, then what he did is called kidnapping, and that is punishable, by law, with a long time in prison.”

Harry remained looking at her with a shocked expression, doubt clear in his face. Obviously, he had as much idea about the answers to those questions as Hermione did, which is to say, none. Hermione raised another finger after a minute of silence.

“Second, Dumbledore left you there entirely knowing you’d be treated badly, you told me yourself he admitted to that much. Do you know which charges can apply to him in court for doing that, Harry?” Harry shook his head. No, he didn’t. “As he was the one leaving you there, if he was responsible for you, then abetting abuse, and probably abandonment too; if he wasn’t responsible for you, then _just_ kidnapping and abetting abuse,” Hermione laughed mirthlessly.

Harry’s mouth hanged wide open now. He was beyond shocked. Hermione didn’t pause this time around and was soon rising another finger.

“Third, he never visited to check on you, informed you of your family roots or anything else, and didn’t even had the face to introduce you to the wizarding world when the time for you to start Hogwarts arrived, as he should have as your magical guardian. Even after you started attending Hogwarts, studying and residing very close to him, he still didn’t tell you he was your guardian or even taught you about your family. Not until the past Christmas, to get you to leave the school without the Dursley’s permission. The Department of Children Warfare, in the ministry, is very strict about guardians performing their obligations. I’m sure that, if you present a complain to them, you’ll get a case opened... at any other time, when Voldemort isn’t taking over things.”

“That has a penalty too?” Harry whispered the question, swallowing thickly and fisting his hands on his lap.

“Probably yes, for neglect, but I’m not so sure about the muggle laws. Anyway, I researched since Christmas all the books in magical law I could find and, in the Wizarding World, it is illegal to keep orphans ignorant of their family’s story and finances, which Dumbledore did to you. Magical Guardians have many obligations and responsibilities; they can lose their position if they don’t take care of them.”

“What is there to know about my family anyway?” Harry shrugged and lowered his head with an air of indifference.

“A lot, actually,” Hermione said strongly, hackles raised at his answer, which startled him. “Did you know the founder of the Potters was Linfred of Stinchcombe, a twelve-century wizard, famous potion’s pioneer, and creator of many famous healing potions that were later developed into the ones we used today, like the Pepper-up and Skele-gro?” He didn’t answer, too busy gaping, and Hermione angrily asked, “Did you?”

“N-no.”

“You should’ve known that, if only he bothered to take care of his obligations and talk with you about important things; instead he calls you to his office from time to time to ask about your last _quidditch match_ or other such nonsense!” Hermione hissed; her hair frizzling as her temper raised. “And that isn’t everything! The Macusa, the government from North America, was founded by twelve original families; one of them was Abraham Potter. Also, the Potter’s formed part of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, here, in Britain, until your great grandfather Henry Potter took a much too pro-muggle position for the pureblood’s tastes, loosing at the same time the Potter’s seat in the Wizengamot. And, if the book I read that from is to be believed, you own the entirety of Godric’s Hollow, Harry.” Hermione stalked forward with her torso, encroaching on Harry’s personal space to make him uncomfortable by design, “If your family history isn’t something you care about, you should al least worry for the people that live in your own lands and pay you rent. Don’t you think?”

“Hermione, please,” Harry said, trying to push for space, but worrying about causing her pain if he touched her.

She relented a moment later, sighing and relaxing her back against the couch. She raised another finger and Harry immediately grunted, rubbing his face. “Fourth, he kept important knowledge about your own life and other important matters from you, for years, leading to you walking into danger repeatedly. Case in point, our jaunt to the ministry the past week. But, then again, he apparently felt please and proud that you strutted in the middle of those dangerous situations, as it was all according to his plan,” and as she said those words, Hermione sneered, still angry that the man was so unbelievably shameless. Such an exemplary guardian he is...

“I understand that, I’m angry too, but what does that have to do with law-breaking?”

“Harry,” Hermione whispered and facepalmed with a tired sigh. “Beside the immorality of it all?” She asked and he nodded, “Well, he isn’t just your guardian, he’s also the Headmaster of the school. He has the obligation of looking after the wellbeing and safety of everyone living in the castle and surrounding property. During first year, I could’ve raised a cause against him for the attack of the troll. Hogwarts’ wards are supposed to regulate the entry of people, creatures, and artifacts crossing its boundaries, you know? He knows every time someone enters or leaves the wards-”

“Wait,” Harry raises a hand, cutting her off. “What?” He shakes his head. “That’s not possible. How did he...Did he knew about the diary?” He gasped and Hermione knew exactly which one he meant. “And, what about Sirius...?”

“Hogwarts is one of the few building with inward woven animagus wards. They are capable of detecting them and kicking them from inside out if the holder of the wards wishes to. In this case, the Headmaster,” Hermione explained, feeling vindicated when Harry paled, understanding dawning on him.

“But... that means...” Harry looked back to the stairs leading to the dormitories. “That means that he knew — Pettigrew was Percy’s pet for years before Ron got him...”

“Yes,” Hermione nodded, “I though about it too. Now, do you understand why I was losing faith in him for a while now?”

Harry nodded, putting his elbows on his knees and sinking his face on his hands with a whine.

“’The Headmaster of Hogwarts should always, above anything else, care for the safety of his charges,’ says the school’s chart. If something happens to his students or the faculty, and he knew about the danger but purposefully ignored the problem, then he can be brough up to charges; like the troll in 1991; like the diary in 1992; like Fawkes saving you instead of him going down there, or Ginny blacking out, killing roosters, and petrifying people by releasing a dangerous magical creature in the school that could’ve easily kill us all in 1993; like Dementors terrorizing us in 1994 when the wards should be able to keep them away; a Death Eater posing as a professor for an entire year, at risk of harming the students when, again, the wards should’ve told him who he actually was; and finally, Umbridge, using an illegal artifact to torture children. He can be reported to the DMLE for each and all of those situations; each case, if he’s proven guilty, adding up to his penalty.”

“That’s too much...” Harry complained, looking defeated.

Hermione continued, mercilessly. “Fifth,” she raised another finger, “Since Sirius escaped in 1993, and all the years afterwards, Dumbledore was Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot and not even once did he bring the case of Sirius never receiving a trial? I asked him about it, but he always said it wasn’t the correct time to do it. ‘It’s not the proper time right now with the political atmosphere, Miss Granger,’ or, ‘It’d be useless with Fudge’s campaign to make Sirius into his scape goat for the Azkaban break out, Miss Granger.’ And like that, three years later, Sirius died without the freedom he deserved since he was an innocent man. So, in my opinion, it wasn’t opportune for him to have Sirius free and able to take over your custody more like, instead of the feeble reasons he gave me.”

As Hermione paused to take in air, Harry shot up to his feet, “I’ll go get my trunk. I'm getting hungry and we can’t come up again after breakfast...”

She observed him hurry up the stairs with a poker face, but inside she was nervous and hoping that he’d listen to her, and maybe for once, use his head to think things through and logically. He’s so damn noble and naïve sometimes...

With his upbringing, you’d think he’ll be more down to earth than he is.

Hopefully, bringing up Sirius’ case will only help instead of becoming a hindrance to her plans.

###### Better to be prepared without need... than caugh by surprise

When breakfast was out of the way Harry and Hermione walked to the edge of the lake, sitting under a willow and talking about their plans for the summer. Ron still had to finish packing some socks he couldn’t find, so they expected to be there for a long couple of hours. Ginny and Luna went with them, but the girls were chasing after bunnies on the edge of the Forbidden Forest as they came out of their burrows with the good weather, so Harry and Hermione were practically by themselves.

“I think that when I’m back at home, I’ll get the homework out of the way and then review all the basics,” Hermione said as she played with a few spears of grass, twirling them over and over with her finger, and only hearing Harry’s whine of distaste at her idea. “I want to visit the shops at Diagon too, to buy some books that I read about in some bibliographies. My parents should have a few weeks free when I arrive, so I’ll probably go with them to Diagon the day before they have to return to work, and then simply leave for the Burrow from there. You’ll visit the Weasley’s too, I imagine?” Hermione turned her neck, catching Harry’s shrug and raising a questioning eyebrow.

Harry sighed, “It depends on what Dumbledore says. You know that.”

Hermione huffed in annoyance while she turned to look at the squid’s tentacles splash on the surface of the lake, playing with the bubbles Luna was summoning, and making her and Ginny laugh as they watched. Apparently, the bunny’s hunting wasn’t as fruitful as expected.

After a few minutes of silence, Hermione spoke again. “My parents won’t be waiting for me at the platform tonight.”

“Oh?” Harry exclaimed, curiously turning to look at her.

“They are visiting some family in the Faroe Isles. It seems a sudden letter arrived for them the past Wednesday with news of a grandparent I’ve never meet, they told me about it when they wrote back on Thursday. I’ll may be alone for a few days until they return.”

“How comes you didn’t know?”

Hermione hummed, “Mom’s parents died a long time ago, but dad had a falling out with his father before he married mum. Grandfather is a sore spot that we don’t talk about in my family.”

“It must have been something really bad, for someone like your dad to cut relations like that,” Harry said with wide eyes.

“I wouldn’t know,” Hermione shrugged, “I never got an explanation. I barely know grandpa’s name; Atlas. And that’s only because I sneaked into dad’s library too many times when I was little and found out a letter from grandfather on dad’s desk once. I got scolded for the first time that night too.”

“Hermione Granger breaking the rules? My word!” Harry touched his chest, faking a scandalized look.

They laugh when Hermione starts pelting him with weak punches on his side.

“Anyway,” Hermione fixed her hair as they calmed down from their kidding around, “I have to go to Gringotts alone tonight since they’re away. They told me to wait until they’re back, but you know me,” she said remorselessly and smirked.

“Of course, you can’t wait to get your answers...” Harry cocked his head, “Did you get any new ideas about why they asked you to visit?”

“I can’t even begin to imagine why,” Hermione scowled, “I mean, I got my papers updated during the holidays, since I became of age while school was in season. It may have something to do with my majority, maybe? I don’t know.”

“I just realized,” Harry startled, “How are you going home if your parents won’t go get you?”

Hermione rolled her eyes, a fond smile taking over her face, “I’m seventeen Harry, I can apparate.”

“You can?” Harry asked perplexed. “Well, of course you can. What am I even saying? It’s you we’re talking about!” He laughed shaking his head, “When did you get it?”

“During the holidays, when I visited the ministry to update my ID’s,” she answered with a smirk. “Professor McGonagall was pleased when I asked her for a couple of private lessons if she had the time, and the Headmaster gave his approval too, raising the Anti-Apparation wards on her office for the hours I went to practice on the weekends. Then, when I was at the ministry updating my papers, I visited the department for apparition licences and passed the test.”

“You didn’t say anything!” Harry accused her.

“Of course, I didn’t. I’m sure you can you imagine how Ron will react when learns about it,” Hermione said, ignoring Harry’s glowering. “He’s a jealous prat and you know it, Harry. Don’t look at me like that. I’m done coddling him by ignoring his childish behaviour.”

Harry jerked back, as if slapped by her words. “Hermione, you don’t really mean that-”

“I most certainly do. I just said so,” Hermione sniffed haughtily. “I’ve been having a few realizations in the past year or so, but the defining factor for my decision to stop being nice was our last ‘adventure’ to the ministry.”

“I’m sorr-”

“DON’T apologize, Harry James Potter,” Hermione hissed with a menacing finger between his eyes, making him go cross-eyed. “If Dumbledore stopped being such a controlling and meddlesome man, you’d know about this prophecy since ages ago! Most of the blame is his, some more is Voldemort’s, and little to nothing is yours. You’re just too hot-headed and stubborn, I can’t blame you for being who you are, but I can blame you for rushing into things without _thinking_ them through when I know you have a perfectly capable brain between your ears. _That_ is entirely your fault.”

Harry lowered his head, mumbling another apology.

“I don’t want you to feel worst than I’m sure you’re feeling, but there are some things we need to speak about, Harry. Like, the fact I’d be dead right now if I hadn’t silenced Dolohov before he cursed me.” Her friend’s head shot up, eyes wide and mouth gaping. “I didn’t tell you anything when I woke up because your grief for your Godfather was too much and too recent, but, that close call made me fear it happening again. I don’t want to let that happen, Harry.” Hermione sighed, hardening her face and looking up front with a determined frown, growling, “ _I won’t let that happen again._ ”

“Hermione,” Harry gasped, grabbing her hand and squishing it as if to reassure himself that she was there, breathing and living. “Are you going to be fine?”

“I have to drink ten different potions a day, for a month, and there is a constant pain in my chest that I was told it’ll disappear in another week or so. Beyond that, I’ll be fine.” Harry sighed with relief. “I don’t understand how you can do this, constantly, each year,” Hermione whispered.

“What?” He asked perplexed.

“The putting your live in the line, almost dying, and surviving just by mere happenstance,” Hermione explained, snorting when he simply shrugged. “It wrecks my nerves, really. I’m not the kind of person to leave things to chance.”

“What is your plan then?” Hermione turned to him with a raised eyebrow. “I know you, Hermione. If you don’t want to feel like that again, you’ll do something to make sure it doesn’t happen. So, again, what is your plan?”

Hermione smirked and lowered her head to his shoulder. “I’m done babying people, first and foremost. I won’t nag you guys to do your homework, or study, or anything else. From now on I’m going to do my best to focus and learn as much as I can during this summer and next year’s school time. The war is restarting and Voldemort and his psychopaths won’t take me by surprise with a curse than can kill me, again. If you want to train with me, Harry, you’re more than welcome to; but if you want to keep slacking off and play quidditch or exploding snap instead of learning to survive the hard times ahead of us, then I won’t push you. Did you know you can practice magic during the summer if you live in a magical household and there is an adult nearby?”

“No?” Harry said with surprise and a small shake of his head.

“I learnt about it while searching for loopholes on the law of underage magical restriction. The twins found me moping in the library in Grimmauld and asked what was wrong, then, explained about tutors and adult consent. Basically, tutors are paid to further teach children during the holidays and so they keep their edge; or, if you have an adult nearby, you can ask permission to use magic since the ministry can detect the use of it but not who used it.”

“Are you telling me we could’ve been using magic at the Burrow all this time?” Harry squeaked.

“Yes!” Hermione huffed. “Apparently, Ron and the others use magic all the time when we aren’t around, but Molly forbid them since ‘we’ can’t do the same in our homes, instead of telling us of the loophole to use it when we visit. Can you believe it?”

“I-I don’t have words...”

“Exactly!”

“You...err, you’ll pay for a tutor this summer then?”

“I’m thinking about it, yes. The thing is, I don’t know many adults, much less one capable of training me. Us, if you’ll accept my invitation.”

“But I have to stay at the Dursleys...”

“You don’t _have_ to do anything you don’t want to, Harry,” Hermione rolled her eyes. “That is another thing I wanted to talk to you about-”

“ARGH! NO! My clothes...”

Harry and Hermione turned in the direction of the lake when the sudden shout startled them. Ginny was dripping water, drenched from head to toes and trying to squeeze the water off while the squid’s tentacles disappeared in the distance. They laughed at the sight alongside Luna, and a moment later Ginny left for the castle to change with the blond girl behind her.

“You were saying?” Harry asked after a while as they calmed down.

“Herm, I don’t remember?” She said and they laughed some more.

“I don’t know. Something you wanted tell me about...?”

“Errr... you said the Dursleys and... Oh! Right! That. Well, when I was doing research, I found something interesting about... well, it doesn’t matter. The thing is, I’d like you to accompany me to Gringotts when I visit tonight. I have a suspicion, but you need to be there or the goblins won’t tell me anything.”

“Okay...?”

“It’s nothing bad, promise.”

“But the Dursleys-”

“Oh, seriously, Harry! Just tell them to go get fatter at the nearest restaurant or something. I’ll wait for you outside the station. If you want to come along, walk up to me and I’ll apparate us, if you don’t then simply keep walking alongside them and I’ll understand you don’t want to possibly be emancipated and out of anyone’s control,” Hermione said with a huff and stood, ignoring her friend’s calls as she walked up to the lake’s edge.

* * *

Later, Hermione was already in the express; she, Luna and Ginny sat chatting amicably until Harry arrived and started telling them about the points professor McGonagall gave all of them when Snape tried to take some, just like a moment earlier when Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle failed their ambush of him as the compartment close by was full of DA members and got cursed pretty badly instead. Soon, Ron and Neville joined them and the express speed away from Hogsmeade and the rural Scotland exterior rushed by their window.

As Neville keep petting his mimbulus mimbletonia, and the plant almost purred back at his touch surprisingly enough, Hermione only hoped the thing didn’t bathe them in pus once more. She didn’t feel like reeking as they disembarked at London later.

They relaxed for an hour or so, reading the newspaper, playing chess and talking about things. Finally, Hermione gathered her courage, after a dozen or so _looks_ from Harry, and called for everyone’s attention. She told them of her idea of training some more during the summer holiday to keep in shape and, hopefully, improve some more. She explained her incentive was purely selfish as she didn’t want to experience another week bedridden — and a consecutive month weakened and in pain — because her reflexes weren’t as good as they could be. Ginny and Ron sulked as paying a tutor was out of the question altogether for them, but Neville and Luna were happily onboard.

Even though Harry and Hermione offered to pay for their entry for the lesson, the siblings denied their help, disliking the idea of ‘charity’ as any other Weasley. She invited them to visit anyway, but knowing Molly, she didn’t hold much hope. Harry, of course, wasn’t mentioned as a participant just yet. They needed to visit Gringotts first... well, Harry had to decide if it was worth the risk of visiting and angering the Dursley, actually.

As Ron and Harry returned to their match, the rest of them brainstormed together to compile a list of the things they’re interested in revising or learning from scratch. Ginny, while not having any expectation of participating in the activity, was still happy to help giving ideas and suggesting interesting bits of magic she heard about and sounded useful in a fight.

So then, the express arrived many hours later at King’s Cross and a platform riddled with anxious parents. All of them grabbed their things and hurried out, saying their goodbye on the way out of the train and hugging each other. Hermione noticed Harry wasn’t happy about unloading his trunk and walking away to his relatives, but didn’t say anything.

Once they unloaded the train, Neville quickly left to his gran, Luna to his father, and the four of them out of the barrier and into the muggle side of the platform. A surprisingly big committee was waiting for them.

Beside the three Dursleys, and the four Weasleys, there was also Tonks, Moody, and Lupin.

Hermione had an idea what they were doing there, but a sideways glance at Harry told her _he_ didn’t. She shook her head, hugged Mr and Mrs Weasley, gave a wave to the twins and the rest of the adults, threw a meaningful look Harry’s way — earning a stiff nod from him, and left the platform.

Happy to have her magic all to herself even during summer holidays, Hermione took her wand in hand and surreptitiously cast a _Point-Me_ spell once she found a concealed corner. It was easy to find the Dursley’s car that way, and once there, she relaxed against the opposite wall and waited...


End file.
